


Hurts So Good

by mynameisnoneya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Coming To The Rescue, Day At The Beach, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 19:38:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14921604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/pseuds/mynameisnoneya
Summary: Sandor Clegane lives on the beach in Dorne where he owns and manages a surf shop.  Recently, a beautiful redhead has come to town and has captured his attention, but Sandor has not had the courage to approach her.  While hanging out on the beach with his two buddies, Bronn and Tormund, Sandor finally gets the cojones to try talking to the lovely lady.  A most unfortunate turn of events thanks to a jellyfish (or fortunate, really, in the grand scheme of things), however, brings Sandor and the object of his desires together.





	Hurts So Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hollandoodle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollandoodle/gifts).



> This story was written for the Summer Sansan Russian Roulette started by SuchaHag (@I60014) on Tumblr. The prompt was posted by Hollandoodle:
> 
> @mynameisnoneya1991 - Sandor gets stung by a jellyfish and Sansa (who he does NOT know) finds him in his time of need. (@hollandoodle )
> 
> As you can imagine, I've taken this prompt and turned into a light, fluffy romantic comedy moment between Sandor and Sansa as they meet for the first time.
> 
> Please note that I made sure to tag any and all characters that appear in this work, whether they have a speaking role or not. 
> 
> General disclaimer: GoT characters and quotes belong to GRMM - I own nor claim nothing!
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, please let me know by leaving comments and kudos!

“For the last time, would you shut the hell up?” Sandor growled, flipping from his stomach onto his back on his oversized beach towel, shutting his irritated gray eyes hidden behind the depths of his black Ray-Bans.  The gods save him but he wished he could tune out the two banes of his existence currently needling him to go over and speak to the lovely, leggy redhead for whom Sandor had been pining since she first appeared in Dorne almost a week ago.

“Man up, Clegane, and get over there before someone else pounces on that pretty little bird,” Bronn scowled, tossing his empty can of beer at Sandor’s noggin.

“Shove off,” Sandor hissed, grabbing the discarded can which had narrowly missed him and was now lying in the sand.  In one swift movement, he thoroughly smooshed it into a ball with his one hand.

Christ almighty, Sandor was ready to throttle Bronn and Tormund, and they’d only been on the beach for less than an hour.  Why in the hell had Sandor even agreed to come out today with this lot, anyway?  He could’ve enjoyed his day off from the surf shop at home, basking in the comfort of his air-conditioned living room and enjoying a cold beer in peace.  Or, if he’d really wanted to sweat like a whore in church, he could’ve forgone this aggravating little trip to work on remodeling his screened-in porch, which was in sore need of repairs.  But no.  He had let Bronn and Tormund talk him into joining them this afternoon.  He should have known that their intention had not been to swim or to sunbathe but to get laid.

Like Sandor would ever have any luck on that front.

“Bronn’s right, you know.  You really should… go…hey, ladies…wanna beer?” Tormund’s dialogue suddenly shifted just as Sandor fired the now-crushed can back at Bronn.  Perpetually horny as always, Tormund lasciviously ogled two pretty young ladies in skimpy bikinis who were sauntering by the three men as they argued on the beach.  Arching a bushy ginger eyebrow, Tormund shot the pair of babes his finest lecherous look of interest, causing the unamused women to openly scoff at him as they passed by.

“I’m not going to go up to some woman whom I’ve never met and try to chat her up,” Sandor declared, trying to suppress his smirk of pleasure that both Tormund had been shot down and that his salvo had nailed Bronn right between his blue eyes.

“You’re a big fucker,” Bronn huffed while rubbing his dinged nose, “So why don’t you act like one?”

“For real, man,” Tormund added, waggling his eyebrows as he watched the scantily clad posteriors of the ladies drifting away.  “You’ve been staring at that lady like a lost puppy for four damn days straight.”

“I have not!” Sandor adamantly denied, knowing full well that at least on this point, Bronn and Tormund had him dead to rights.  Sandor _had_ been yearning from afar, thirsting like a man stranded in the Mohave for the gorgeous young woman every time he happened to see her visiting his surf shop, lounging on the beach, or hanging out with some lady friends at the local eateries or bars after work.

“Just look at the lovely lass over there, all alone with no man to comfort her,” Bronn tutted behind his teeth, sniffing in amusement at his pending taunt.

Unable to stop himself, Sandor lifted his head, daring to sneak a peek her direction.  Today the redheaded beauty was all by herself, snuggled in her beach chair while engrossed in a novel, engulfed in the shade offered by the enormous rainbow-striped umbrella behind her.

Sandor sighed heavily.  “Looks to me like she’s perfectly content.”

“I bet she could use the attentions of a strapping young gent like yourself,” Bronn added with a self-assured smirk.  “All alone…probably far from home…sounds to me like she could use a little _entertainment_ , if you know what I mean.”  With that statement hanging in the air, Tormund leaned across Sandor’s reclined form to slap Bronn a high-five in appreciation.

_Buggering hell, I really need to get new friends._

Gritting his teeth so hard he was certain that he’d chipped a crown, Sandor rose to a seated position, inhaling deeply to keep himself from launching off his warm spot on the sand and beating senseless one of his tormenters.  “Unless she’s into guys with a face like a horror movie, I highly doubt that she would be interested in the likes of me.”  He abruptly removed his sunglasses to bring his point home with added emphasis.

Bronn and Tormund just stared at him blankly, completely unfazed and unamused.  They’d known Sandor for a decade.  The shock value of Sandor’s disfigurement had long since worn off.

“I still don’t see why you’re so fascinated with that woman,” Tormund chimed in as Sandor chucked his sunglasses in frustration onto his towel.  Popping open another can of beer which he had snagged from Sandor’s cooler, Tormund continued, “She’s hot, I’ll give you that, but she always has her nose in a book.  Probably boring as hell in bed, too.”  As Tormund paused his litany to guzzle some beer, wiping the beads of ale from his beard, he added, “And by the way, I thought you hated gingers?”

“No, Tormund,” Sandor rolled his eyes in disgust, shaking his head as he cast yet another glance toward the beautiful redhead who was completely oblivious to the rest of the world, “It’s not gingers I hate.  Just you.”

“Well, I’d fuck her,” Bronn blurted out without introduction, taking a sip off his can of beer, peering over the tops of his amber-tinted aviator sunglasses at the object of Sandor’s lust while Tormund cackled in glee.

“I swear to all the gods, if you two don’t shut up right now, I’ll - ” Sandor seethed at the both of them.

“Hey, look!” Tormund interrupted, pointing over Sandor’s back toward the group of beach chairs due west.  “She’s on the move, Clegane.  Better hustle!”

Unable to resist, Sandor’s head whipped around immediately, his shoulder-length black hair swirling in the air as he turned to see the lady in question.  Sure enough, the gorgeous young woman had risen from where she sat nestled on her beach chair, leaving the shade of her umbrella to shirk off her clingy light blue terry wrap and wide-brimmed straw hat.  She casually tossed all her outwear onto said chair and then unhurriedly strolled toward the water, her curvy yet thin form ensconced in a tasteful yellow polka dotted bikini.  Sandor’s cock started barking at him in an instant.  Willing himself to heel, he grumbled as the leggy redhead made it to the edge of the shoreline, getting her feet wet and stooping to splash some of the cool ocean water on her pale, lightly freckled skin.

“Do us all a favor?  Go talk to her,” Bronn continued to harangue Sandor.  “Put us out of our misery.”

“If you don’t, I will,” Tormund said, wetting his lips while leering at her bent-over backside while she continued to enjoy the crisp feel of the clear-blue waters.

Typically, Sandor would’ve have cursed the both of them to hell and back, but at present, his tongue tied itself into a tight knot while he daydreamed about the woman in question.

For the last four days in a row, the redheaded beauty had visited Sandor’s surf shop, lingering for what seemed like hours as she meticulously scoured his establishment.  Each time that the lady had ventured into his place, Sandor had tried his damnedest to rouse his courage and speak to her while she flipped through the various racks of tacky t-shirts and airbrushed products.  Unfortunately, as the beauty wandered about his shop, reverently scrutinizing the kitschy beach-themed junk made overseas which he peddled to the tourists, Sandor’s mouth always managed to stop working.  Instead of talking to her as she meandered about his store, he pretended to look busy while fiddling with the register or snarling at Lancel or Dontos for doing something stupid as usual.  From behind the imagined safety of the front counter, Sandor scrutinized her every move, tracking her like some wild dog watching its next meal.  And when the lovely lass would finally settle on some trinket to purchase and made her way to the registers, he promptly fled to the safety of his office in the back of the store, hoping that she didn’t notice his scarred up, ugly mug gawking at her like a creepy perv.

“I give up,” Bronn sighed in defeat as the three men watched the young woman rise to her feet once again, her suit now wet and sticking to her body in the most delicious of ways.  “If you can resist that, then you’re hopeless.”

Swallowing hard as the crimson haired beauty continued to kick her feet around in the slight waves along the shoreline, Sandor hung his head in shame.  Bronn was right for once, damn it.  He _was_ hopeless.

Long ago thanks to his ass-munch of an older brother, Sandor’s self-esteem had been lost in an instant.  For almost twenty years since Gregor’s moment of malevolence, Sandor had lived in fear of rejection, only daring to approach a woman when plastered beyond his wits.  And so, here he sat with two men his own age who hadn’t matured since high school, dreaming of a life outside of work that included the love of a good woman.  Yet, Sandor, who had no trouble telling the rest of the world to fuck off, was terrified of talking to this one woman.

Bloody hell.  Sandor had become the world’s tallest baby.

Before he could second-guess himself, Sandor hopped to his humungous feet, lifting his chin defiantly and throwing back his broad shoulders.  Smoothing the imagined creases in his black and yellow swim trunks, he steadied himself for his pending move.

This was it.

_Time to man up.  Right._

Without a word, Sandor stomped toward the water with the redheaded young lady caught in his cross-hairs.  He could hear the snickers and shouts of approval from Bronn and Tormund wafting in the air behind him as he approached her.  The mid-afternoon winds were steady and strong today, causing Sandor’s shoulder-length black hair to lift and lilt in the air, unveiling to those around him the very reason for his self-loathing.  Steeling himself for the lady’s inevitable shock upon seeing his marred countenance up close and in person, he inwardly braced himself for the fact that he was about to crash and burn like nobody’s business.  He was about to go up in flames, and damn the world straight to hell and back if he didn’t know exactly how that felt.

Unfortunately, Sandor didn’t see the washed-ashore jellyfish languishing on the beach as he bravely approached the young woman.  As she turned to see who was coming up from behind her, the very instant that her lovely face morphed not into disgust but something akin to delight, Sandor’s right foot made contact with the gelatinous, gooey object dying a slow death on the scorching sandy beach.

“God damn it all to mother fucking hell!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs, leaping into the air like a kangaroo and landing awkwardly on his left foot.  He was quite certain that the entire beach and probably half of Dorne had heard him yelling his artfully juxtaposed string of profanities just now.

“Are you okay?” the redhead gasped loudly in genuine concern as she watched his left foot slide in the sand, causing a helpless, hapless Sandor to land right on his muscular butt.

“Fuck, fucking…just…god _damn it_ ,” was all Sandor could manage to snarl.  Clutching his right foot, he could see the reddened, raised ridges already forming where the tentacles had stung him.

To Sandor’s surprise, the lovely lady quickly rushed out of the water toward him, kneeling beside him where he sat almost in tears from embarrassment.  If he hadn’t been in such excruciating pain at present, Sandor might have been able to fully appreciate the view when her rounded, milky white teats all stuffed into the stretchy fabric of her swim suit bounced and danced around while she positioned herself next to him.

“May I take a look?” she requested earnestly, holding out her dainty, well-manicured hands mid-air as she waited for Sandor to grant her permission to touch him.

Panting from the intensity of the sting coursing through his foot, Sandor nodded in a dizzy fog of disbelief.  “Uh…yeah, okay.”

With the utmost care, the unfazed young lady cradled his ginormous, hairy foot in her hands, her ginger brows knitting in concentration as she surveyed the damage.  “It’s a jellyfish sting,” she nodded as she looked up into his pained gray eyes.  “I’ll need to treat it.”

“You know what to do?” Sandor wondered, the intensity of the god-awful pain miraculously disappaiting as she stared sweetly into his face, completely undaunted by what she saw.

Before the lady could answer him, Bronn and Tormund came bounding over to the crime scene.

“What in fuck was that about?” Bronn asked as he jerked his sunglasses on top of his head.

“Jesus H. Christ, man,” Tormund said in a whoosh, his hands on his hips as he tried to catch his breath.  “Did you cut off a toe or something?”

“Jellyfish,” Sandor smiled not at them but at the lovely young lady, the pain no longer bothering him, especially now that she was gently running her slim fingers along his furry shin and calf, twisting and turning his leg as she searched for any other points of contact.

“I read once that you need to scrub it with seawater,” Bronn stated as if he were a doctor and not a bouncer at a local nightclub.  Pointing to Sandor’s foot, he added, “You gotta scrape off the stabby thingies with a credit card, too.”

“Actually, that will make it much worse,” the lady currently holding Sandor’s leg firmly chastised Bronn, swiftly lifting her azure eyes to meet his.  Bronn’s blue eyes widened from the terse look she shot him.

“Nah, man, everybody knows you gotta pee on it,” Tormund shook his head, his two hands hurriedly racing to the drawstring of his swim trunks.

“Don’t you _dare_!” Sandor screeched in terror as Tormund moved to lower his britches.

“Wait!  Stop!” the lady forcefully shouted at Tormund, who stood at the ready with his hands shoved inside the waistband of his swimsuit, “That doesn’t work, either!”  Tenderly, the redheaded woman lowered Sandor’s leg and foot back to the beach, placing her small hand on Sandor’s shoulder as she returned her attention to him.  “You need to apply vinegar first, then place heat on the area after you’ve carefully removed any stingers still left behind with tweezers.  That will kill the venom and prevent it from spreading any further.”

“Oh…okay,” Sandor grinned like an idiot at her, hearing her words but not quite able to process her instructions.

“You,” the young lady suddenly commanded a highly-confused and slightly frightened Tormund, “See that chair over there by the striped umbrella?”  Across Sandor’s chest she leaned while pointing her finger, inadvertently giving her unexpected patient a glorious view of her ample cleavage.

“Uh…yeah?” Tormund cowered.

“Go fetch my blue bag.  Now!” she briskly ordered him, snapping her fingers a few times to make him get moving faster.

“Who the hell are you, anyway?” Bronn snorted in merriment at the lovely lady who had returned her undivided attention to Sandor.

“Sansa Stark,” the woman answered with a slight smile, not looking at Bronn but directly into Sandor’s bumfuzzled gray eyes.

“Are you a doctor?” Sandor gushed as she lightly stroked his leg hairs.

“No, I’m a marine biologist,” Sansa replied, flicking her head to the side to get the stray wisps of crimson curls out of her face.

 _A marine biologist,_ Sandor smiled wistfully at her.  _She’s smart and beautiful._

“Here it is!” Tormund panted, out of breath from his sprint to retrieve her bag.  He offered it to Sansa, who in turn jerked it roughly out of his hands.

“Do you always carry vinegar in your bag?” Bronn quizzed her.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Sansa replied with an air of authority on the subject as she rummaged within the depths of her huge beach bag.  With a playful look darting across her face, she leaned in closely toward Sandor and whispered with a wink while unearthing a first-aid kit, “Girl Scout.”  Returning her attention to Bronn, Sansa added with a distinct touch of sass, “And so should the three of you when you come to the beach.”

“Is he going to live?” Tormund asked in utter seriousness.  “Ow!” he yelped, lifting his hands in the air in question and silently mouthing “What?” at Bronn, who had just struck Tormund in the upper arm to make him be quiet.

“He’ll be fine,” Sansa nodded with a grin as she began to work her magic on Sandor’s sting.  “I’ll take care of him.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Sandor blindly repeated, completely focused on her face as she unscrewed a small bottle of vinegar and doused his wound.  “She’ll take care of me.”

“Listen, I’ll need to pluck out the stingers with tweezers before I can apply heat to the wound,” Sansa spoke softly to him.  “Want me to do that for you?”

Unable to form a coherent thought, Sandor simply nodded.

“What’s your name?” she asked him, a pleasant smile on her face as she once again dug around in her beach bag, looking for her manicure kit.

Nothing.

Not a chirp, not a word.

Sandor merely tilted his head to the side, silent as a stone, as he basked in Sansa’s sheer awesomeness.

“His name is Sandor,” Bronn rolled his eyes in amusement when the giant man didn’t answer the lady.  “And hey, if it’s okay with you, Nurse Ratched,” he joked, “We’re gonna head back over to our spot and get out of your way.  Let us know if we can help.”

“Absolutely,” Sansa chuckled, her smile widening at Sandor before looking up at Bronn.  “I may need the pair of you to help him get up and walk.”

“Aye-aye, captain!” Tormund said, making a mock salute.

“Just shut up, would ya’?” Bronn hissed under his breath, shoving Tormund ahead of him as Bronn marched the both of them toward their spot on the beach.

“So, Sandor,” Sansa inquired as she dug around in her first-aid kit yet again, “Do you live around here?”

“I, uh…yeah, I do,” Sandor bumbled.

“I’ve noticed you over in the surf shop up on River Road,” she grinned at him, slapping on a pair of disposable rubber gloves to begin removing the jellyfish’s barbs.

“You have?” he gaped.

“Yeah, I have,” she smiled up at him through her lush, long lashes.  “I’ve wanted to introduce myself, but I wasn’t sure if you had a girlfriend or…” Sansa paused, casting a quick glance over her shoulder toward Bronn and Tormund, who continued to squabble with one another like a married couple.  “Well, if maybe you weren’t already in a relationship.”

Sandor’s brain slowly caught up to her inference.  “I’m not in a relationship with _anyone,_ ” he laughed as he pointed with his head behind him, “Can’t be sure about those two, though.”

That joke made Sansa giggle and divert her eyes to her handiwork, a flush of crimson streaking her pale cheeks.  Sandor wanted to pat himself on the back for discovering his previously unknown ability to flirt.

“I just moved here myself,” she offered, still intently focused on his foot.

“Really?” Sandor gleefully replied, coughing to cover up his less than stoic excitement.  “So, uh…why did you move here?

“I’m starting my PhD in marine biology over at the University of Westeros at Dorne in a few weeks,” Sansa told him as she plucked out another stinger, holding his foot impossibly tight and steady when he unconsciously flinched.  She was a strong lass, he’d give her that.

“Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?” Sandor blurted out rapidly, losing his ability to filter anything that leaked out of his mouth any longer.  The acidic smell of vinegar and salty sea water mingled together in his nose as the heat from the hot sun and the soft touch of Sansa’s skin began to melt his brain.

“Sure.  I’d like that,” she replied demurely, the corner of her mouth quirking into the beginning of a grin as she lifted her gloved hand to point to his reddened foot.  “Assuming you survive, of course.”

At that moment, Sandor wasn’t sure if she was referring to the jelly sting or to the fact that the most gorgeous lady on the planet was willingly touching him and taking care of him and had just agreed to go out with him.

“You’re too late; I’ve already died and gone to heaven,” he deadpanned.

And when Sansa tilted her head back and laughed a deep, throaty laugh at his comedic delivery, Sandor almost pinched himself for real to make sure that he in fact was not dead at present.

**Author's Note:**

> Do jellyfish have Jelly Babies™? I bet Sandors and Sansas have Big Babies, though.


End file.
